


Scars and Bridges

by KerriLovegood



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Gen, in which i get dark about a kids show, the slowest of slow burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7336693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KerriLovegood/pseuds/KerriLovegood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alya hasn't been acting right since lady WiFi, and it haunts and drives her in different ways. Her life becomes increasingly entangled with those of Paris' crime fighting duo. All of them have secrets and different roads to healing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Marinette raced up the front stairs of the school, panting slightly as she gripped unnecessarily at the straps of her book back as she ran. The dull thud of the front door closing echoed through the nearly empty hallways as she ran to class, feeling the ticks of the clock chase her. Almost late again, and she didn’t know how many more times she could get away with it. Couldn’t akumas learn to work around her schedule?  
The doors seemed to speed past her, falling behind her in line. Her classroom door came into her line of sight and she breathed a sigh of relief. She slowed her pace, a slight smile coming over her face, until there was a slight tug as her feet fumbled over each other and her stomach lurched slightly as she fell face first across the tile. Her backpack flung open, its contents spilling over her head and across the floor in front of her. Tikki rolled out and bounced a few times across the tile before righting herself. Frantically, Marinette looked around and saw that no one had seen her. “Are you okay, Tikki?” she whispered as the kwami rubbed her head from the collision.  
“I’m fine, just make sure you get to class on time!” the kwami said in alarm after burying herself in the bag once more.  
Marinette grabbed her textbooks and shoved them back in her bag before grabbing haphazardly at every loose sheet of paper- homework and new clothing designs alike- that had scattered across the floor. She had borrowed Alya’s history notebook the night before to make up for a lecture she had missed, and it was thrown open to a random page in front of her. As she reached for it, she noticed that something was off about it, and paused to examine the page.  
Alya always dated her notes and color coded them by theme. Marinette had learned her system over time, and admired the meticulous methods that helped the gears in Alya’s mind turn. This page had a date-- a little over a week before -- but none of her normal coloring. It was like a skeleton of her usual work, with headers of topics and no details. Instead, over and over in the margins was drawn four arching lines on top of each other, each one longer than the last: the symbol of Lady WiFi. At the bottom of the page were the curved wings of the butterfly silhouette that overtook the faces of all of Hawkmoth’s akumas.  
The breath caught in her throat for a moment, taken back to that night she had tried to forget. She had fought people she had known as akumas before, and had known they were not in control, but Alya had been different. Her best friend, laughing maliciously and trying to take her down. Being Ladybug meant she had experienced a lot of people in her life look at her without the personal recognition of her as Marinette, but usually that was replaced with a slack-jawed look of awe. Hatred was rare and unnerving; it changed Alya’s eyes from their open hazel green to a cutting violet. She had tried to push the thoughts down, knowing everyone was safe, but part of her still wondered...What if she or Alya had hurt each other?  
The bell rang, tinny and intruding in on her thoughts. Her mind traveled back to the present and the sunlight pouring in through the windows, and she jolted up realizing she was late again. Standing up, throwing her backpack over one shoulder and pressing the notebook to her chest, she ran to the room, flung open the door, and shouted “I’m here!”  
There were a couple scattered laughs, and a bored “Who cares?” from Chloe, who didn’t even care to look up. She walked past the front row of desks, noting Adrien’s absence, and took her spot beside Alya. She whispered “Thanks for letting me borrow your notes. Sorry I’m such a mess.”  
Alya laughed at that. “You’re not a mess, girl. Well, sometimes.” She cracked a smile, but Marinette didn’t miss the worry in her eyes. “But it’s part of your special Marinette charm.”  
She laughed uneasily as she pulled out her textbook and laid it out on her desk. “At least I’m not too late today.”  
“Yeah, Adrien’s late again, too. I swear if I didn’t know he was a model, I’d think you two were always up to something together.”  
At that, Marinette blushed furiously and slammed her face into the pages of her textbook. There was a muffled scream as she felt her face grow hotter. Alya stifled a laugh and said “You know I’m messing with you!” before they were both shushed by the teacher.

Adrien didn’t show up through the whole class, and even Nino started looking worried, pulling his phone slightly out of his pocket and appearing to discreetly send a text. Part of her wondered what it would be like to be close enough to Adrien to be able to send him worried messages, because she did worry about him more than she’d like to admit. She glanced over at Alya, and felt her stomach drop as she noticed the butterfly symbol once again, now etched roughly in the margins of her new page.  
She waited until lunch to talk to Alya, deciding there was nothing she could do during class, and that she already had enough reason to fall behind. Once the bell rang and the hallways became a din of stomping and chattering voices, she felt herself moving very slowly. Carefully placing each book and pencil in her backpack, moving at nearly an agonizingly slow pace, she watched Alya. Nearly everything about her seemed normal; she was hyper-alert and friendly as always. Then again, she didn’t know exactly what she was looking for.  
Lady Wifi had been defeated and de-evilized a week and a half before, she reassured herself. If Alya was acting drastically different, she would have already noticed.  
Or maybe she wouldn’t have.  
“Hey, Nino!” Alya called just then, as Nino was walking out of the room alone. He turned to face them, face lighting up just slightly. “S’up!” he called, adjusting his glasses.  
“Was just thinking you seemed like you needed company. Wanna hang?” Her mouth turned up in a satisfied smile as she placed her hand confidently on her hip and nodded towards Marinette, who smiled awkwardly.  
“Totally!” Nino smiled, and held the door open for them. Alya threw her arm around Marinette’s shoulders as they walked towards the door and held her tight.  
Her fingers tightly pressing on her shoulder, Marinette couldn’t help but think just then that maybe she had missed something important. Alya was acting like herself, sure, but maybe a little too much like herself. It was as if she was a tired actor playing up a dramatic performance, forcing a joy that didn’t come naturally. Still, it was a good mask, and one you couldn’t tell was there unless you looked hard enough for the edge of it.  
~

Paris managed to hold itself together for one day, and Marinette finished her homework relatively early. She leaned back in her chair and sighed, satisfied. The posters of Adrien covering the wall just behind her computer smiled back absently at her, and she wondered where he had been that day, imagining all kinds of exciting scenarios that his high life must entail.  
Her phone buzzed with a notification. Pulling it up off her desk she saw that she had a text from Alya. Her face winked playfully in the contact photo, but the message simply said: “Hey, what was the homework for history? Guess I totally forgot to write the pages down.” Next to the text was an emoji of a face sticking its tongue out, and Marinette paused.  
Alya normally had a schedule for her schoolwork done at the beginning of each week. It was Wednesday now. Normally this conversation would be the other way around. She fought the urge to call Alya or run to her apartment herself, and decided to wait it out. Texting her the page numbers and saying they could compare answers later, Marinette sighed, “Tikki, what should I do?”  
“What do you mean?” the kwami piped up, bobbing her way to sit on the desk in front of her.  
“I’m worried about Alya. She’s not acting herself lately. I’m not just making that up, right? I’m her best friend, and I should be able to know when she’s hiding something, right?”  
“Well, Marinette, she hasn’t been able to tell that you are hiding something really big from her.”  
Marinette laughed slightly. “Well...you have a point. But I have a lot of help, and there have been a few close calls. Sometimes I wish she could know, but...it’s better this way.”  
“I know it’s not easy. Do you think Alya could be hiding something big?”  
Marinette tapped her chin with her pencil thoughtfully. “Hmm...Tikki, can akumas ever….reactivate in a person? Can they still be the villain...underneath who they are?” her voice became quieter as she spoke, a scared whisper. She heard Lady Wifi’s laugh in her mind and shuddered.  
“It’s never happened before. Akumas may be powerful, but Ladybug is the perfect match for them,” Tikki smiled. “Trust your own power, Marinette.”  
“So the imprint of Lady Wifi can’t affect Alya at all?”  
The kwami paused. “Maybe it is affecting her, just not in the way you think.”  
Marinette turned to look at a picture she had on the wall of her and Alya in the park, arm in arm and laughing at a joke she had now forgotten. In that moment, they both looked like no weight had ever pinned them down.  
Once they were cleansed, those taken over by the akumas usually seemed to have no memory of what had happened. But it had still been them, she realized now, even if they were Hawkmoth’s puppets, and she wondered what scars could be left behind to rob her best friend of her carefree smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Adrien had avoided school, and he had never felt more daring. No emergencies or cities to save, he was just tired. It was difficult to avoid Nathalie, but he just couldn’t stand the idea of sitting in classrooms for hours. These days he so tired and yet restless to the point of pacing at the same time. Still, sleep snuck up on him at the most unexpected times.

Later that evening he found that he had fallen asleep at his desk, face pressing hard into the spiral rings of his notebook. He woke up hours later with the moon in the sky and pink indents up the side of his face where the rings had been. He yawned, rubbed at his eyes and reached for his phone. 11:02 pm, the corner of his screen said, and notified him of a few texts from Nino. Sighing at his unfinished homework and his utter lack of motivation, he spun in his chair to face the rest of his room, and saw Plagg sprawled out across the pillow his bed, snoring dramatically. 

“Oh, cut it out,” he said at the kwami. “You don’t snore like that.”

Plagg moaned in response without opening his eyes. “Maybe I do now. Stress habit.”

“Right,” Adrien rolled his eyes and stood up. “Well, I’m going to go get some food from the kitchen.” There was no one to get mad at him right now; his father was away at a conference. Plagg turned over on the pillow, face pressed down and muttered something that sounded vaguely like “camembert.”

Even though he didn’t have to worry about disrupting anyone, he closed his door gingerly behind him. His footsteps hardly echoed with the quiet of his pace. He was light as a cat on his feet, and thus the house felt deadly still. Any noise of the house setting made him jump as if he were on a stealth mission, stanced like he was ready to escape at any moment.

Part of this was the fact of being Chat Noir. He was exposed to so much danger that it would be foolish to not be on guard. Yet another part of him knew that this had nothing to do with his alter ego: he simply had not felt at home anywhere in years. Especially not in this house. He wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts, but this house felt like it was full of them, inhabiting every dark corner. 

So in the end, Chat Noir was...freedom, in a way. He didn’t feel the crushing loneliness when he was fighting for Paris, or running side by side with her. Ladybug made him want to be better.

He wanted to be Chat again, even for a moment, where he felt like he mattered. It could just be him and the city. Entering the kitchen, he paused for a moment before searching for anything to appease Plagg.

A few minutes later he slipped through the door to his room again and tossed a block of mozzarella onto the bed in front of the still-snoring mass buried in the pillow. “Sorry it's not camembert, I figured it was close enough.”  
“Close enough??” Plagg cried, inspecting the cheese that was nearly as big as he was. “You wound me.” 

Adrien threw himself onto the bed, now brimming with energy. He stretched out on his back, unable to keep from smiling. “Claws out soon, buddy. No emergency, just...for fun. I’ll only ask this one time, I swear.”

Plagg just sighed in response as he munched loudly on the cheese.

A few minutes later, Chat Noir flipped out of an open window and into the cool night air. He landed on all fours, strikingly feline in his posture before righting himself on his feet. 

Chat Noir loved the city at night. Adrien did, too, but he had never really been able to explore it alone before becoming Chat Noir. Even now he wasn’t sure how much of his personality was his own. The lines between the different parts of him were blurred, yet with the secrecy he had to maintain he never felt whole. Something about the city at night helped him forget that.

Standing on a neighboring roof, he turned around in a full circle ,breathing in the open air and taking in the twinkling lights that spanned out around him in all directions. It was like a gently lapping sea swelling with its waves of bright yellow light. Orbs of light were suspended like ornaments in the distance, creating discrete rivers of light following the streets. He smiled slightly.

Cities knew whole networks of stray cats. They weren’t directly visible if you weren’t looking for them, aside from the occasional brave stray outright begging for food. They slinked away in alleys or across roofs, unnoticed and untroubled. So he took off running, just another stray in the city.

He was getting better and more agile every day. There was still the familiar jolt in his stomach when he leapt off of a roof, but he trusted himself more each time to land on the other side. The streets were below him, pools of light from streetlamps illuminating the occasional passerby or car, and he went unnoticed. Eyes watering slightly and hair blowing back, he laughed into the wind. 

He slowed eventually, chest heaving large gulps of air as he still grinned at nothing in particular. His lungs screamed at the exertion, yet he only wanted more. Footsteps more measured yet still agile and light, he meandered more, taking in more.

At one point, he sat on top of a bar that opened up into a narrow, cobblestoned side street. Neon lights of various bright colors burst in broken fragments from the windows. Clusters of human shadows in motion stretched out lofty and erratic in the pools of orange and pink. Music and voices together spilled out onto the street, an excess that made all of it indecipherable. Every now and then people would leave in groups of twos or threes, some laughing and walking crookedly. No one spotted half of Paris’ superhero duo on top of the building with his legs dangling over the edge. A few streets down there was a billboard with the face of Adrien Agreste plastered across it, posing in a faux casual manner. The irony that this famous alter ego granted him anonymity did not escape him. 

Time passed, and he noticed a woman leave the bar alone with the disjointed speech of a drunken man calling out after her. As the door closed behind her the sound muffled and she coughed a few times. She seemed to take a few moments to pause and breathe, looking around in slight confusion at her surroundings. Chat perked up where he sat, tilting his head to the side as he watched her. He wasn’t able to make out her words, but she appeared to be talking to herself under her breath as she started digging through the small bag at her side. Seeming to find what she wanted, she looked around her in every direction and then started walking down the street to Chat’s right. 

He felt nervous. The street curved into more shadow up ahead, and she was completely alone. There was a looseness to her motions that made him think she was at least a little bit drunk. It was past midnight, and beautiful though the city was, he knew extremely well that it was not safe. He stood up and started walking across the roofs, trailing behind her from above. 

After a few minutes, the thought occurred to him how alarmed she would be if she realized she was being followed. She was crossing the street at an intersection when he decided to show himself. So he leapt from the room, grabbing and extending his baton while in midair. It made contact with the pavement about midway through the street and he pushed, letting it send him in an arc through the air. 

Chat’s stomach jolted as he saw himself growing closer and closer in the second story window of the building in front of him. He realized he overestimated the width of the street and let out an involuntary yelp. Sticking his legs out in front of him, closing his eyes, and retracting the baton, he collided with the window. There was a loud thud and a wave of relief swept through him as he realized it did not shatter. What sounded like a small dog started barking excitedly from within as he tumbled down the wall and onto the canvas of the small awning beneath the window, somehow still landing on his feet. “Sorry!” he called lamely towards the window.

On the sidewalk some fifteen feet away the woman he had been following had turned around, brandishing what he now recognized were a set of keys between the fingers of her fist. He realized she was staring up at him. So he posed. Dramatically. 

“Wait, are you like, for real?” she asked, speech only slightly slurred.

“Uh...come again?” he said awkwardly.

“The Chat Noir guy. Are you him? Or are you some weirdo dressing in a skintight black suit?”

“I am the furreal deal,” he said, leaping down from the awning and landing easily on the sidewalk.

“Okay, so you’re both,” she said. Walking closer he saw that she must have been in her early twenties with a soft, round face and dark skin glowing in the moonlight. “I guess this is why Ladybug does all the talking on the news and...stuff.”

“Me-ouch,” he sighed jokingly. “And also true.”

She laughed, but didn’t loosen her fist clawed with keys. She paused, thinking, and then her eyes widened as she said “Wait, if you’re here then...some awful shit is gonna happen. I gotta go.” So she turned around and started walking in the opposite direction.

“No, there’s no danger!” Chat called, and she turned around. “Haven’t you noticed there’s no Ladybug?”

“I guess...I just…what are you doing then?”

Chat bowed dramatically. “I’m here to help you, mademoiselle.”

She paused. “I’m more drunk than I thought.”

“Wait! What I meant was…” he straightened his posture, face sincere and voice softening. “I was just going on a routine patrol,” he said, trying to sound more heroic than he felt, “and I noticed you were walking alone. I thought I might offer to help you get...wherever you’re going.”

Finally, she lowered her hand but still gripped the keys. “You do this a lot?”

No, never.

“Of course!” he exclaimed. An awkward pause. “So, what’s your name?”

“Elinore.” She stared at him for a moment longer, and just when he thought she would say something else, she turned and kept walking down the street once again. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder, “I live down this way.”  
He started jogging awkwardly until he caught up, and then they walked side by side. “Elinore,” he said, “If you don’t mind me asking...why were you out alone this late at night?”

“Well i didn’t go to the bar alone,” she explained. “Just ended up that way, y’see, I was with my flatmate, Renee, right? Except she was with her boyfriend and i really wasn’t in the mood to be a third wheel while also being hit on by creeps. So I just left, told Renee I’d see her later. Don’t think she even noticed I left, really, too busy sucking face.” She sighed, and her voice grew softer. “Thought we were supposed to look after each other, her and me.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Chat could think to say.

“And now here I am complaining to Chat freakin’ Noir,” she said as they both looked for approaching cars before crossing a street. “It’s the alcohol, I swear.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, waiting until he had direct eye contact. “You’re not wine-ing.”

Elinore started giggling as though she couldn’t control it before whispering “You’re unbeerable” and collapsing into a further fit of giggles. 

He nearly gasped in astonishment, laughing too, and added “Everyone always thinks my puns make me a real cham-pain.”

She laughed harder and it turned into a snort. She looked embarrassed at that and tried to change the topic. “I don’t know if this is against superhero Code of Conduct or something, but...can I take a selfie with you?”

His eyes widened, then he smirked again. “Yeah, of course. It’s something we all need, right? My face.” 

She laughed again and pulled him into the light of the nearest street lamp before pulling out her phone and turning on the front facing camera. She snapped the picture quickly and seemed satisfied at the result: both of them beaming, washed out in the waxy yellow light. 

Once they started walking again, she was the one to strike up conversation. “So...does Ladybug find you a cham-pain?”

He couldn’t help the way he perked up at her name. Thinking of all the ways to answer, he settled on the truth. “I think so, sometimes,” he said quietly. “But...I know she cares. We’re a team.”

“Wait. Is that all you two are?” she asked. “Just a team?”

“There’s nothing ‘just’ about being a team,” he said defensively.

“No, I didn’t mean-” Elinore said. 

“My lady and I share a special bond,” he said, still wounded. 

“Look, I’m a paramedic. I know how important teamwork is, ‘specially when you’re trying to save lives.”

“That’s really cool,” Chat said. “You’re like a hero, too.”

She smiled gently. “Thanks. It pays the bills, too.”  
“It’s just that…” he trailed off. “I...Well, Ladybug and I, we spend so much time fighting people that aren’t even people anymore. They’re just people’s desires or needs amplified, warped, and sometimes it makes me believe the worst in people. I just needed a reminder that people aren’t just those negative things, that they aren’t the biggest thing about us.”

Elinore nodded, making a turn. “I think you know what you’re fighting for. And I’m glad you’re not just fighting those monster things.”

“Me, too.”

“My flat is just up here,” she gestured to a building a few dozen meters down the street. “And yeah, you’re totally a liar and had never done this before.” She laughed.

He held up his hands and shrugged. “It’s always paws-ible to try something new.”

They stopped outside the front door of the building. “I live on the second floor,” she said, fiddling with her key ring until she found the right one. But she turned and looked at him, really looked at him. “Chat Noir...you’re just a kid, aren’t you?”

“What?” he said, alarmed. 

“God, you are just a kid. Ladybug is, too, isn’t she?” 

He didn’t give her an answer. He didn’t have one. 

She shook her head. “My God. You shouldn’t have to be doing this.”

Once again, he said nothing for a long time. The silence was weighty, and he looked at the ground near his feet before saying “I’m not alone.”

“No, you’re not.” She slipped the key into the lock and he heard a quiet click as she turned it. “Goodnight, Chat Noir. And thank you.”  
“Goodnight, Elinore,” was all he said and the door shut behind her. He stared at the door for a moment, thinking, and then he was gone, just another shifting black shadow in the night.

He found himself on the rooftops again, lost in thought. He normally tried not to focus on the toll being Chat Noir left on him. He already lost sleep, class time, and had seen his best friend turned into an akuma. There was always the constant threat of Hawkmoth, whoever he was, at the back of his mind. In the end, though, he still believed that it was worth the cost. Saving people, being someone like Chat Noir, and working with Ladybug...he wouldn’t want anything else. Not ever. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he was in this alone, though. She was strength and compassion and resourcefulness. She was so confident, so sure, and could always win. He often felt like he wasn’t deserving of fighting beside her, but tried to banish those thoughts by remembering they were always stronger together. And as long as he had any say in it, they would always be together, as partners, if nothing else. 

While lost in all these thoughts of his identity and Ladybug, he had wandered near the mayor’s house. He rolled his eyes, knowing Chloe was there, but turned abruptly when he realized there was another person in front of the place. One solitary woman holding up her phone, apparently taking pictures from the sidewalk. He leapt down, smoother than the last time, to look at her. But before he was even a few steps forward from where he hit the pavement, she had turned rapidly and yelled “Stop right there!” She was holding out what he recognized was a can of pepper spray in the hand that didn’t hold her phone, her face contorting more in rage than fear.

It was then that he recognized her. She wore flannel pajama bottoms and a sweater, but he knew her brown skin and fiery hair that was now pulled into a bun, burning more golden brown in the street lights. He knew her. Sadly, she was probably one of the people he knew best, because she sat behind him every day in class.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while between chapters. I'm going to try to get this story back up and moving. Thank you very much to those who have read. It means a lot

"Alya?" He exclaimed, then, catching himself, said “All y’all...kids! out late tonight!”

“Chat Noir?” She yelled, still brandishing the pepper spray. 

He realized his luck: she was too preoccupied with the fact that Chat was standing in front of her to notice that he had said her name. “At your service,” he said, inclining his head and masking his panic. What was she doing here? All his mind could do was flash back to the image of this same woman, laughing horribly, like a cartoon of herself, as she perched on the roof of the building right in front of them.

“What-What?” She was practically shaking with energy as she bounded closer to look at him. “What is happening?” Her eyes were wide, slightly bloodshot, and her cheeks were flushed, looking as if her mind was racing in a hundred different directions as she looked him over. It took him a moment to realize that she wasn’t nervous anymore; she was excited. Between her panted breaths, she was smiling. She walked a full circle around him, snapping pictures. 

“Purrfect, aren’t I?” he quipped, still eyeing her curiously.

Alya laughed slightly. “Witnesses always say you have a wicked sense of humor. Does Ladybu-” she stopped midsentence, gasping. “Ladybug! Is she here?”

Chat felt his shoulders drop slightly. “No,” he said. “Unfortunately My Lady is not here with us tonight.”

Alya was frozen where she stood, and he was shocked to see that she almost looked relieved. “So…” she said slowly, “no monsters right now?”

He laughed easily. “No akumas.”

That seemed to ease her for a moment, and then gave her more energy for an endless barrage of questions. “You two are so rarely seen without each other, what gives? What are you doing here? Do you know where Ladybug is? Are you two on separate missions? Ohmygod you’re spying on the mayor-”

At that he leapt and put a gloved hand over her mouth. “Paws that thought.” He looked around wildly. “This doesn’t look good, you know that, right? Don’t draw attention to yourself. You’re-how old are you?” he feigned confusion. “Young enough for a curfew to affect you. And not only is this one of Paris’ finest hotels, but it’s the house of the mayor. Guards are everywhere.”

She swatted his hand away. “I know all that! Security has tightened lately, but the guards outside rotate, and we still have... ” she checked her phone. “Another minute. Chloe has personal guards outside her bedroom, but I’m not there, am I?”

He really didn’t want to know how she knew all that. Grabbing her arm, he pulled Alya across the street and towards the river. He started walking slowly, waiting to see if she would join him. She followed, and they ambled down by the river, hearing its gentle flowing against the stone walls. “Look, if you were acting strange enough for me to notice, then the people whose job it is to watch the place will notice, too.”

“Notice me doing what? Taking pictures of the mayor’s house? It’s practically a city monument!”

“And you’re no tourist.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. Adrien aside, he had fought her in this building the week before. Maybe she was still having trouble remembering that had happened. “Why would a tourist care about anything in Paris but the Eiffel Tower?”

She laughed. “Alright, that’s fair. But I have actually been asked before if I’m not ‘from here.’”

“What?” he asked. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That some people are really ugly,” she spat, and he looked over at her in the light of the passing streetlamp. Her features were scrunched up in disgust, the dark expanse of the river behind her. “People sometimes don’t even see each other as another person, you know?”

He looked at the outlines of buildings on the other side of the river, indefinite things in the dark of night, but knew their details from his many passings in the daytime. He thought of many things in his life, all at once: Ladybug and their half-knowledge of each other, Nathalie and her cold care for his schedules, his father and how he never seemed to look at his son. “Yeah, I get that,” he said quietly.

She was smiling now, still holding her phone, and part of him wanted to ask if she was recording the conversation. There were lines under her eyes, and hair fell loosely from its messy bun around her face. He felt a pang in his stomach, and wondered how well she had been sleeping, upset that he hadn’t even noticed during school earlier in the week.

Chat didn’t know when they had stopped walking. She extended her free hand in that moment, and somehow she still exuded a presence that she was in charge of something despite how exhausted she looked. “Alya Cesaire, you probably know me from the Ladyblog.”

Shaking her hand he said “Alya,” nodding his head and pretending to memorize the name. Pulling on one of his smirks he inclined his head and said “The incredible Chat Noir.” 

“Do you know my blog?” she asked, perking up.

Adrien thought of how the website was bookmarked on his computer.

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard of it,” he said casually. “Checked it out a few times. It’s some pretty good stuff.”

She raised her phone to his face. “Care to say a few words of endorsement about the number one source for Ladybug news?”

That took him out of the moment. He remembered again why he was there, and the absurdity of her situation. None of it looked good. Just the week before she had been the first akuma to knock his Miraculous off. He swallowed the memory of his fear. “Eh...not right now. Maybe some other time? But right now, I still have questions for you.”

She shifted slightly where she stood, eyes widening in a panic, and he could tell she had been avoiding the subject. For a moment she looked small. “Look, if this is about Lady WiFi-”

“So you remember Lady WiFi?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “That’s my problem!”

Chat eyed her curiously. “I want to believe you. Ladybug and I have never noticed any sort of...leftover traces from the akumas, but you were alone in the middle of the night, outside the place Lady WiFi struck. And you’ve memorized their guard’s routines? That needs an explanation.”

“My mother is the head chef at the hotel. I know it like the back of my hand, or like Ladybug’s spots,” she said quickly, shifting from foot to foot in unease.

“That’s still not giving me a why, Alya. And that’s what I need to understand.”

“Yeah, well you and Ladybug have never been twisted by an akuma before, have you? So what do you know?” she said defensively. “You just get to be super and save the day! You don’t...hurt people!” Her voice cracked with pain, and he reached out to touch her arm reassuringly. She pushed him away and ran down the street, feet slamming with every clumsy step against the pavement.

“Alya, wait!”

“Goodnight, Chat Noir!” She called over her shoulder, voice as biting as the wind.

He stopped, sighing angrily at himself, dragging his hands down his face. Stupid. It was stupid and rash. He phrased his words like a stupid accusation, and now she was running into the night again, alone. 

Not for the first time that night, he wished Ladybug was there.

Ladybug owned up to her mistakes. She always tried to make things right if she hurt people. He shook his head, and ran after Alya’s escaping shadow again.

“Wait!” he called after her. “Wait - please- Alya!”

She turned around suddenly, about ten feet in front of him. She squinted at him, panting heavily with her hair draping her face as it had fallen completely out of its bun. Her face glistened with sweat in the yellow pools of light from the lamps. “I was out there because I was trying to remember what happened that night, okay? That’s all that was happening.” Her voice was strung with anger as she ground out her last words. “I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to talk to you. That’s all.”

“I understand,” he said softly, an ache growing in his chest. “I’m sorry. I-”

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Chat Noir. Not now.”

“I-okay,” he said weakly, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I’m going home,” she said, quieter. “And I don’t need you to walk me.” She retrieved her can of pepper spray and turned her back on him. He stood and watched her retreating form, feeling something inside of him drop. A dizziness overtook him for a moment, each breath harder than the last. Failure pressed upon him from every direction. 

He would try again, soon. Even so, he would make sure she made it home safe before he made his own lonely trek back to his empty house with its own ghosts of memory. He looked around helplessly for a moment, and leapt to the rooftops again. Trailing behind her, from the rooftops, he saw that Alya held true to her words: about twenty minutes later she approached a charming little house in the middle of a street, inserted a key, and disappeared into the blackness with delicate steps.

Chat sighed in relief, and looked to the expanse of the sky where he knew the stars hid behind the barrage of city lights. He couldn’t escape the thought that he had failed today, with someone he considered a friend. He had tried to build bridges today, connecting people across seas of loneliness and fear. But some gaps felt too big for bridges, and could only be navigated with the light of stars.


	4. Chapter 4

“Marinette,” a voice said softly. “Wake up, mon ange.”

She groaned in response, scrunching up her eyes and rolling over to face the wall. She burrowed her face into the side of the stuff toy cat that curled around the top of her bed. Her lofted bed was a reprise from all the fatigue of a double life, so she blocked out the noise and tried to allow herself a few more minutes.

“Marinette,” the voice she now recognized as her mother’s said again. 

“Just five more minutes.” Her voice was muffled, low and quiet against the pillow. Despite her best efforts, she was slowly waking up. She was more aware of her surroundings and different sensations in her body. There was a slight discomfort as her pajamas pants had ridden up to a slightly uncomfortable degree and strands of her hair had fallen in her face. 

Sabine’s voice was full of her usual warmth. “Alright, but you’ve got things to do.”

“Did I miss school?” She asked groggily. 

Her mother laughed. “No, dear, it’s Saturday.”

“Oh,” Marinette said slowly. “Good.”

“Well, I’m glad you seem to have slept so well. It’s been awhile since you’ve had a good night’s rest, I think. But it’s past ten thirty and you are still babysitting Manon at noon, right?”

At that, Marinette bolted up in her bed, the comforter falling into her lap. She was dizzy for a moment, rubbing her eyes and pushing her hair out of her face. “Yes! Mom! Thank you!”

“Glad I could help,” Sabine said, shaking her head and smiling as she walked to the stairs. She was halfway down before she stopped and said “I’m going to get back to the bakery. Your father left a turnover for you on the counter if you’d like it.”

“Thanks, mom! Love you!” 

“I love you, too!” Sabine called as she closed the trapdoor behind her. At that signal, Tikki floated from the small alcove in the wall behind Marinette and into her lap. “Oh, Tikki, I’m such a mess. How could I forget that I’m babysitting?” she asked morosely.

“You’re not late to anything Marinette, you’ll still be ready to entertain Manon,” Tikki said happily. “We’ll just remember to set an alarm in the future.”

“Tikki, you know I’ve slept through alarms.”

“Well, I can be your alarm!” Tikki accentuated the sentence with a slight bounce and Marinette couldn’t help but smile back at the kwami.   
“Thanks, Tikki,” she said, feeling better but not entirely at ease. She grabbed her phone and checked her notifications. Nothing from Alya, which wasn’t necessarily strange, but she remembered everything else she had noticed the day before and bit her lip. Making a mental note to check in on Alya later, she climbed down from her bed and headed for the bathroom.

About fifteen minutes later, she walked down the stairs, dressed and with her hair brushed and pulled into her regular two ponytails. The downstairs was comfortably lit just by sunlight. It was a beautiful day outside; not too hot, but bright as if the world was saturated in gold. The tv in the living room was on, a newscaster talking in her clear and crisp voice. Otherwise, it was quiet. The bell at the entrance to the bakery rang as she stepped into the kitchen. Hearing her father’s muffled voice downstairs, she called out quietly “My parents are both down in the shop, so you can come down, Tikki.” 

The kwami bobbed down the stairwell obediently and plopped down on the kitchen table next to the plate her father had left out for her. There was a napkin folded in a triangle underneath, with blue ink trailing across the soft material that said “For sleeping beauty” and a smiling face drawn next to it. “Oh, dad,” she whispered to herself. She picked it up and held it in her hand for a moment, smiling contentedly.

Marinette went to the fridge to pour herself a drink, and saw Tikki float into the other room. She retrieved a glass from a cabinet, and as she was pouring herself some juice she heard Tikki say “Marinette, you’d want to see this.”

“Is something wrong?” She asked in alarm, putting the carton away hastily. “Should I get my spots on?”

“Hold on, let me pause it” The kwami said, and just as she was about to voice her confusion, she heard a slight thud and a clatter in the other room. Walking around the corner, Tikki came into view, sitting on the tv remote with entire body, rubbing her head with one of her short pink limbs. 

“Maybe you don’t need to use your whole body to press a button,” Tikki said in confusion. “The way you and your dad play those video games I thought slamming it was the point.”

Marinette burst out laughing and scooped the kwami into her hands, setting her on her shoulder. “We’ll work on electronics more one day, okay? And what was it you -” she stopped speaking abruptly, jaw dropping open as she stared at the tv. On the screen was the reporter, a dark haired woman in a clean cut and tasteful blue dress with her mouth open mid-sentence as the slide text said in large black letters “Living in the ‘Catlight’: Woman’s Photo With Chat Noir Goes Viral.”

“Oh, kitty,” she sighed, picking up the remote and pressing play.  
The anchor came to life, smartly picking up wherever she left off. “-appeared on Instagram at approximately 7 am this morning. The photograph depicts a local woman named Elinore Lachance and famous Parisian Chat Noir in what appears to be the light of a streetlamp late at night, smiling and apparently quite comfortable in each other’s presence.” 

The photo appeared on the screen behind her as she spoke, and it was unmistakably Chat Noir with his messy hair and lopsided grin. Next to him was a woman she had never seen before with plump cheeks and dark skin. Her hair was short and bushy, like a halo around her head with the way it caught the light of the streetlamps. Both of them had goofy smiles, the lighting washing out Chat’s pale face, making them both appear waxy. 

“In what has been just over three hours since the photo was originally posted,” the newswoman continued, “it has circulated over various social media sites, garnering much attention throughout Paris. This is the first time a ‘selfie’ with either Ladybug or Chat Noir has been found online, and it has opened a floodgate of new questions about our heroes’ personal lives. Lachance’s original caption offers little answers, stating: ‘It’s funny the kinds of people you can bump into at night. Found a stray that walked me home. Thanks for everything you do, Chat Noir. You’re the real deal, but your puns are not.’ Following is a hashtag reading ‘#dontgetcatty’ and various others stating the hero’s name.”

“Throughout the hundreds of questions and speculations that have been sparked on the internet, one questions has been repeated most: where is Ladybug? This is not asked without reason. Ladybug and Chat Noir first appeared at the same time just months ago to defend the city, and have been our constant heroes and protectors ever since. Little is known about the two, except that the two are always together.”

She cleared her throat. “Personally, I don’t believe this picture is any cause for alarm that our heroes have split up. Rather, it humanizes two otherwise super-beings. Whatever the context of the picture, Elinore Lachance’s smile says it all -- this is a touching story, and our city is in good hands.” At that, the newswoman gave a slight nod to the camera, the edges of corners of her mouth so neatly applied with lipstick tilting up in a smile. 

The screen faded to black for a moment until a commercial for a fast food place started playing, volume louder than the news had been and blaring for a moment. Marinette scrambled for the tv remote and turned it off with a click before collapsing onto the couch and sighing deeply. “Well, what was that about, Tikki? There wasn’t an akuma or emergency yesterday, was there? Did I miss-?”

“If something big happened last night, it would have been more important to the news than a photograph, wouldn’t it?” the kwami asked helpfully.

“That’s true,” she agreed. “I’m just so afraid that I-”

“I know, Marinette,” Tikki said. “Being Ladybug is a lot of pressure. You have a lot sitting on your shoulders. But you’re learning and doing great.”

Marinette looked down at her lap. “I’m just scared that I’m failing. I miss whole classes at school, and I think my parents are beginning to worry. But I’m too busy worrying about another akuma attack or a meteor or a bank robbery or even Hawkmoth himself! Then something is up with Alya that I don’t even know anymore. How do I talk to her? She’s my best friend, this shouldn’t be hard And on top of it all, Adrien wasn’t at school yesterday.I’m nervous when Adrien is at school that I’m gonna make a total fool of myself in front of him, but when he isn’t there I worry that something happened to him! Then what do I do?” She put her head in her hands, pushing her bangs out of her face groaning dramatically.

“Breathe, Marinette,” Tikki piped up.

“And on top of this, my partner is apparently running around at night taking selfies. Does anything make sense anymore?”

“Has anything felt totally normal since you became Ladybug?”

“Hah! No.” She dragged her hands out of her face and looked down at the small pink form of her kwami, who had floated onto the table in front of her. “ But at least more so than this.”

“It’s not an easy life,” the kwami said. “But it’s always an interesting one. And one that you can handle, or you wouldn’t be Ladybug. You were chosen for a reason, just as all past Ladybugs have been.”

“And none of them have ever been a mistake?” Marinette said sheepishly.

“No,” Tikki said earnestly. “And you are no different.”

She breathed deeply and clenched her fists, remembering the power she feels every time she suits up. Even though she was scared when first donning the suit, she couldn’t deny the..energy that came with it. It was something electric and pulsing and right. “I’m gonna prove it,” she said, standing up suddenly, a steel to her voice.

The kwami hummed her approval. Checking her phone, Marinette saw that it was still just a little after 11 am, and Manon would be dropped off at the bakery at noon. Walking back to the kitchen she grabbed her breakfast and glass of juice and headed back up to her room, deciding the rooftop balcony would be a good place to enjoy her morning.

Outside was pleasantly warm, with just the slightest hint of breeze blowing past the rooftops. Sitting for a moment, she just took in the feeling of the sun on her skin and the way the sky opened up above her, brilliantly blue with feather-light brushstrokes of white clouds across it. She made a mental note to take Manon to the park later instead of staying in. A day like this begged to be appreciated.

The news report still ran through her mind. What was Chat Noir doing out late at night with no big emergency? Did he do that often? Should she be going out at night? The more she thought on it, the more logical it seemed. She could patrol the city at night, prepared for anything that might happen. However, tragedy, as she knew, did not just strike at night. So shouldn’t she always be on guard? But then how could she live any other part of her life? She shook her head, trying not to think too much harder on it for now, anyway.

Part of her did wonder, however, what Alya had to say about Chat’s apparent late night excursions. She pulled out her phone and opened up the internet browser, searching the Ladyblog. It’s neat layout loaded, pink with curving red letters titling it. Scrolling down to the new updates, she saw that the last post was...from a few days before. That couldn’t be right. She refreshed the page. Nothing new showed up. She went to the section titled “Pictures.” The last picture there was an action shot of her fighting Pharaoh. Now that was odd.

Telling herself it was bound to happen eventually that other news sources beat Alya with superhero updates, she pulled up her messaging and shot Alya a quick, teasing text. “Just saw news on Chat Noir that’s not on the Ladyblog. This must be the end of the world. Or at least false advertising.”

She continued skimming through the blog when her phone dinged with a notification of Alya’s response. “Hah! Just saw that, too.”

“And? Your official commentary?” She shot back.

Alya’s reply was almost immediate. “This strike doesn’t count, girl. Ladybug wasn’t in the pic. I’m still the best source of Ladybug news.”

“Uh-huh.”

Laughing to herself, Marinette was able to partially dismiss her concern for Alya. However, returning to the blog didn’t soothe her fears. She noted that there were whole sections on the akumas, with photographs and witness accounts of each monster. The most recent compilation was of Pharaoh, stocked full of personal photos and videos as Alya had been up close and personal with that akuma. She had even discovered ‘Ladybug’s’ history book, and she had to sneak it back undetected. It was understandable why there was so much to say about that case, but it was strange that there was absolutely nothing about Lady WiFi. As far as the Ladyblog was concerned, Lady WiFi didn’t exist.

Marinette tapped on one of the tabs on the main page calling for submissions. In this way, the Ladyblog became a communal effort and a place for discussion, all run by Alya. There were even forums where people had different Ladybug and Chat Noir themed usernames, discussing theories and swapping stories. When the submissions page loaded, an error message popped up informing her that the site was currently swamped with submissions and could not accept any more for the time being.  
Maybe Alya hadn’t had time to go through all the submissions detailing Lady WiFi, or was just taking her time. Both were understandable, and she was forming more of an idea of the impact Lady WiFi could be having on her friend. Like Tikki said, maybe it was Lady WiFi still hanging over Alya, but not like a virus. This was more like a memory of a ghost, or a scar.


	5. Chapter 5

Marinette ended up taking Manon to the park, unable to ignore the beauty of the day. It was the transitional period between summer and autumn, yet it was still uncharacteristically warm. The trees were just beginning to be colored their rusty reds and oranges, stuck in some strange in between as if they were trying to hold tight the memory of their growth. Manon kicked up the first of the fallen leaves from the ground, crunching and bent over themselves, with her pudgy hand grasping Marinette’s.

“They should just fall already!” she complained, pigtails bobbing as she tried to jump .

Marinette laughed lightly. “But when the leaves fall, the weather gets colder. And don’t you hate the cold?”

Manon stuck out her bottom lip, pouting. “But it doesn’t have to be both all the time, does it?” She looked up at Marinette, and her honey eyes looked soured. “Not fair!”

“Well, you go ahead and give Mother Nature your puppy eyes. If anything could convince her it would be those things.”

“Hmph,” was all the little girl said in response, tugging on Marinette’s hand and running from beneath the trees to the center of the park. Once they were by the fountain in the center, Manon let go of her hand and turned to look at her. “Let’s play a game! Where we’re space captains or superheroes or- or I’m Ladybug! And you’re the evil man!”

Marinette couldn’t help but smirk to herself. “Oh, and what about Chat Noir, Manon?”

“He’ll be invisible!” Manon said loudly, obviously, as if it was silly Marinette hadn’t caught on.

“Chat Noir being invisible, that’s a scary thought,” she mumbled under her breath before addressing Manon. “Alright, let’s go! Let’s see, what’s Hawkmoth like...” Marinette drew herself up to her fullest height and stood rigidly, tilting her nose up in mock disgust. Then she spoke, in a gravelly voice that she drew out each syllable in. “Laaadyybuggg, my one true enemy!” she roared, and Manon shrieked with glee. 

The little girl ran to the nearest bench bordering the fountain, clumsily climbed onto it and then stood up. Then, she pointed in accusation at Marinette and cried out “You don’t scare me!”

“You should be afraid!” Marinette retorted in her over-the-top Hawkmoth voice, unable to stop herself from smiling. Her over-the-shoulder bag swung at her side with her wild gesticulations, and she wondered briefly if Tikki was enjoying this. “Or-or-” she thought for a moment, and then pointed instead at the empty space beside the bench Manon was standing triumphantly upon. “Or your dear Chat Noir will pay!” At that, she threw her head back and broke into her best villain laugh. 

“Well...mon chaton is going to attack you!” Manon cried, hopping down from the bench. Once she touched the ground, she broke into a sprint, short legs working as fast as they could back towards the trees, screaming “Distraction!”

“Noooooo!” Marinette said in false agony, clutching at her chest as if struck, then cracking a smile and running after the smaller girl towards the treeline, tripping once while trying to dodge a group of kids playing with a kickball. A few groups of people walking along the perimeter of the park looked towards the two of them, some amused and others not. She didn’t care, and let the hours pass by, laughing in the unseasonal weather. 

It was a little after three by the time they got back to Marinette’s house. Manon was tired, movements slowed with fatigue even if she wouldn’t admit it. They walked through the bakery instead of taking the exterior stairs, knowing they could beg a few treats out of her parents. And they did, walking upstairs with a plate full of cookies a few minutes later, thanks to the power of both of their puppy eyes.

“By the way, papa,” Marinette paused at the foot of the stairs, looking out to her parents. “Are you ready for the career showcase we’re doing at school on Tuesday? I was thinking we could bake enough treats for the whole class to have one?” 

“Sounds great! I have just the thing in mind to wow your class,” Tom said good-naturedly, gesturing with a rolling pin in hand.

She beamed in response and headed up the stairs. “Thanks, dad!” Manon was sitting on the top step, attempting to shove an entire cookie in her mouth by the time Marinette looked at her. “Be careful. Don’t bite off more than you can chew,” she said, casually playing with Manon’s hair as she passed her on the stairs, heading for the kitchen.   
“I’ll get us something to drink real quick, since it was so hot outside. Can I trust you with the plate by yourself?” Manon simply hummed in response, mouth likely still full of cookie. As she opened the refrigerator and retrieved their water pitcher, Marinette called to her “Your mom isn’t going to be back until around five thirty, so...maybe we should head up to my room? Play in there for a while or go up to the balcony?”

“Mmhmm,” Manon replied from the other room. As Marinette picked up the two glasses of water she had poured, she heard thuds up the stairs to her room and rolled her eyes at the hyperactive girl.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called, taking slow steps so she wouldn’t trip and spill the drinks. Despite living there, the steepness of the stairs to her room always presented difficulty if she didn’t consciously think about the placement of the steps. The trapdoor already lay open, and she was slightly surprised manon was able to push it open. Turning around as she stepped onto the wood floor, she saw that Manon had already sprawled out on the round pink rug in the center of the room, one of the clasps on her overalls coming undone. The plate of cookies lay to the side of her, about half of them already gone. 

Placing the glasses on her desk, she then went and plopped herself on the rug in front of Manon. She instructed a reluctant Manon to sit up, and quickly reattached the light purple strap of her overalls. “There we go,” she said absentmindedly. “So I was thinking maybe we could color a little bit while we cool off?” The smaller girl nodded her head jovially, demanding a specific coloring book, which Marinette obliged, pulling a book with its thick off-white pages and some crayons out of a drawer in her desk and setting them down on the rug.

“I was thinking maybe we could draw something magical today, like fairies or-” she stopped midsentence as there was a crashing sound on the rooftop above her. Just a few months before, she would have brushed it off, but being Ladybug put her on edge. It was too loud to be birds, maybe there were electricians or repairmen working today that she wasn’t informed of? Curiosity got the better of her, and she stood up, looking towards the trapdoor above her bed. 

“Hey, actually, you pick one out, alright? Whatever drawing you want. I’ll be right back.”

“I want to go on the roof!” Manon said grumpily.

“In a little while we’ll both go up, okay?” she said reassuringly, hand trailing up the sleek black railing as she climbed to her bed. The glass skylight made a slight grinding noise as it slid against the wall to be propped up on its side hinges, tapping against the exterior brick of the house.. She popped her head through the opened entryway, stopping for a moment to look down at Manon. “I’ll be back in a minute. And don’t eat all the cookies,” She dropped her voice down to the cartoonish growl she had used in the park “or Hawkmoth will get you!” That got a laugh from manon, and she turned, smiling, to look out at the balcony. She froze, jumping slightly as the grin melted off her face. Someone was already there. A someone in all black leather and an eyemask, fidgeting awkwardly where he stood. “Hi.”

“Chat Noir?!” She nearly screamed, then put a hand over her mouth in surprise at the volume of her own voice. Her other hand clutched at the small pink bag by her hip, tightening her fingers around it, as if hiding Tikki hid her secret. Her stomach seemed to drop. Maybe he knew. Somehow he figured out her secret, and he knew. Pulling the hand from her mouth, she began whispering rapidly, the words falling from her mouth in terror. “What are you doing he- how did you find- I mean clearly you’re just passing through, so I shouldn’t…”

“I’m sorry!” he said, without any of his typical bravado from when they were leaping across the city. He bit his lip, and seemed to be gesturing down towards his feet. She stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck and saw that the deck near his feet was scattered with dirt… and the shards of a pot. 

“Was that the noise I heard?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, it was an accident. And I’ll replace it for you!” He drew one of his “paws” across his chest and said “Cat’s honor” in a way that was overwhelmingly reminiscent to a few weeks before when her cover was almost blown. It made her more uncomfortable. When she didn’t smile, he said “Are you Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” 

“Y-yes…” she said slowly, and breathed, analyzing the situation. He hadn’t outright said anything that hinted that he knew who she really was, so she decided to keep it that way. “Am I in danger? Where’s Ladybug?”

He stepped closer to her. “No, you’re not in any danger. And milady isn’t here right now,” she breathed a sigh of relief, “but I was hoping to talk to you.”

The hand around her bag unclenched itself, and she realized that it was all a bit silly, just sticking her head out of the trapdoor. Chat was acting strange, more tired and serious than usual. It caught her off-guard. She thought of the news report, and then decided she needed to know what was going on. She placed her hands on either side of the opening, and then paused. “Uh...I’m babysitting right now.” 

“Oh,” he said. “They can handle themselves for a while, right?”

She wanted to laugh. “You’ve never taken care of children, have you, Hero Man?”

“No, I haven’t,” he said, shrugging. She looked at him, confused at his honesty. Chat really was acting strange, but she couldn’t tell him that. He seemed to catch onto it, and then smirked lightly “Well, there’s a lot of world saving to do. Don’t always have time for socializing, even if I do want to...chat.” He purposely pronounced his name wrong, winking at her as he did so. She rolled her eyes. 

“This can only be a few minutes,” she said cautiously, then called down “Manon, I have an important phone call to make, okay? Everything’s fine! I’ll just be up here for a minute.”

“You better not be lying to me, Hawkmoth!” Manon called up. Marinette looked at Chat, who, despite the mask, she knew was raising an eyebrow at her, grinning in that unbearable way he had.

“Please pretend that didn’t happen,” she said, a slight brush growing on her cheeks. She hopped off of her bed and pushed herself out through the opening, refusing to make eye contact.

“Hawkmoth?” he pressed.

Brushing the dirt off her pants, she wished she was anywhere else. “It’s a game we play,” she admitted.

“Ah,” he said. “I don’t blame you. My life is pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

“Chat Noir is invisible in the game,” she deadpanned back. She could play his game, too.

He barely even paused. “My enemies never do see me coming.”

She shook her head, slightly amazed at the dynamic they had going when they were supposedly strangers. Leaning against the railing on the balcony and crossing her arms over her chest, she said, “I’m still scared here. How do you know who I am?”

“Chat Noir knows all,” he said cheekily before his expression turned sober. “You’re friends with Alya Cesaire, right?”

“Alya? She’s my best friend.” She shifted her stance, breathing out a shaky breath. Not trusting her voice, she left it at that. 

“She’s okay,” he said quickly. He moved to stand beside her, leaning against the railing while remaining a comfortable distance away. It was so routine to her, standing side by side with him, his lanky limbs spread out like a stretching cat. She could make out the lines of his muscles beneath the tight suit, and here she was, in a floral patterned shirt. They were not in the middle of a fight, calling out maneuvers and heat-of-the-moment commentary; rather, they were two people talking without all the pretext of being heroes. “I talked to her for a while last night. I was worried about her.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“So milady-Ladybug, and I, we stop these monsters called akumas. I’m sure you know about them.”

“Most people do, and my best friend runs the Ladyblog. I know more than most. And I know that Alya was...turned into one of those things. I go to the school where she first took over the projectors.” She was feeling more confident now, and spoke with a stronger voice. She was going to control the conversation. “And I know she has been acting strange ever since.”

He was listening intently, and the cat ears of his suit practically perked up. “How so?”

“It’s just been a lot of little things,” she said, staring at the ground and toying with some of the spilled soil with her foot. “Things like forgetting homework assignments and all of her stuff is unorganized. Which, if you know Alya, is...totally unlike her. She always remembers small details, it’s part of her born-to-be-a-journalist personality. The Ladyblog has nothing on Lady WiFi- I checked. Then..she’s been drawing the symbol in her notes, like a doodle in the margins, you know?”

“She looked exhausted when I saw her,” Chat added, and she looked up at him, still confused. “ I think she hasn’t been getting her 8 hours.”

“I don’t think you have either,” She said coyly.

He seemed to take that as some sort of compliment, flexing and looking entirely self-satisfied. “Well, I do-”

She didn’t want to hear him finish that sentence. “I mean I saw you on the news earlier today.” 

“Wait, what?” he said, caught off guard. “I am newsworthy, but I haven’t fought an akuma since-”

“It was a segment about a selfie you took last night.”

“Oh, that?” He frowned for a moment, pondering. “That made the news? My face is always plastered over Paris.”

She wanted to roll her eyes, to stick out her tongue at him in a completely Ladybug manner, but she remembered which life she wore. And she remembered the child she had left unattended in her room. There was no time for his banter, no matter how much she actually wanted to engage in it this time. “Do you always go out that late?” she asked impatiently, before another thought occurred to her. “Was Alya out on the streets with you last night?”  
“I was patrolling late last night, checking out the city for any signs of danger. It’s a superhero thing.” He waved his arm dismissively.

No, it’s not a ‘superhero thing’, Marinette thought. “And?”

“I was walking the lady from the picture home, making sure she stayed safe,” he said, voice filled with sincerity again. 

She blinked a couple times, expression softening as she looked up at him. Every self defense tip she’d been taught through her life came to mind. Every time she’d felt unsafe walking home or being out late at night settled in her chest. She’d defended her share of girls, or scared men making lewd comments before, but had never gone out at night to patrol. Part of her wondered if it was the conditioning to not go out alone at night that had held her back, even when she could fight back- and win. 

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. What Chat had done was good, and she felt all the more safe fighting by his side. “I”m glad you did that, Chat,” was all she could think to say. He merely shrugged it off, but she could see the gentle smile hidden there. “But...Alya?” That piece she still couldn’t put together.

“Right,” he said. “I saw her, and I’m not quite sure what hour in the morning it was. Cats are nocturnal,” he added lightly. “And she was outside the Grand Parisian, watching the place and taking pictures.”

“The Grand Parisian?” Marinette asked, pretending to rack her brain. “Isn’t that where-”

“The main place where lady WiFi attacked, yes.” He said. “So I tried to talk to her, and she acted suspicious. As soon as Lady WiFi was brought up, she lost it. She said she was trying to remember what happened that night, and I think that’s what has been bothering her; the fact that she can’t remember.”

“That would make sense,” she said, and buried her face in her hands. “I’m so worried about her. I need- I need to- “ She froze for a moment before crouching down onto the floor. Using her hands, she started sweeping up all the dirt that had scattered about and bringing it to the small pile around the roots of the now helpless purple flowers. “I want to fix things,” she said, more to herself, voicing this urgent need in her chest to do something constructive. 

“That’s why I came to talk to you, Marinette,” Chat said from behind her. She heard him step towards her, as quiet as he was, and crouch down next to her. Even the way he crouched was catlike; perching light on his feet and looking ready to jump at any moment. But he didn’t. He grabbed a few smaller shards of the broken pot away from her bare hands, clearly trying to save her from a cut palm. He was so close to her now, she could see individual strands of the golden waves of his hair that fell down onto his cheeks. “Alya needs a friend right now.”

That made her freeze. Not entirely sure why, she felt slightly wounded. It hit at the thoughts that strangled her mind like thorns: that she wasn’t doing enough. “I think I know how to be a friend. I don’t need you to tell me how.”

He looked slightly alarmed, bright green eyes widening beneath the mask. Shaking his head vigorously, he said “No no no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Holding up his hands as though he didn’t know what to do with them, he said “I just wanted to give you all the information I could, to help you. So you can be that friend you already are.”

She met his eyes, and they were so vulnerable and earnest that she looked at the ground again and sighed. “Thank you, Chat Noir. It is good to hear another perspective. And that our heroes really do care about us.”

“I don’t want there to ever be a doubt,” he said. She looked up at him again, and they held eye contact for a long moment, saying nothing. They swept up the last of the obvious dirt, and he practically bounced up, stretching. He gave her a characteristic smirk and inclined his head slightly in a mock-bow. “I should let you get back to the little ladybug in there," he said, indicating the room below them with his eyes. "It was a purr-leasure to meet you, Marinette." And with that, he hopped up onto the balcony ledge, and was off across the rooftops, tail whipping in the bright afternoon sun until she couldn't see him at all.

“Goodbye, kitty,” she whispered to herself, before opening up the glass trap door and hopping down onto her bed where Manon called for Marinette to admire her drawing of a woodland fairy colored suspiciously like a ladybug.


End file.
